


Cigarettes

by OneBlckSock



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Bondage, F/M, Female on Male Rape, Humiliation, Molestation, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 06:04:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13992039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneBlckSock/pseuds/OneBlckSock
Summary: Prompto Argentum is having a shitty week. He's lost a way into his house, and before that, he got into the biggest fight of his life with Noctis. But upon the help of his strange neighbor, he accidentally falls into the web of a manipulative vice that draws him farther from his friends and closer into his own self-destruction.*unedited and unplanned*





	Cigarettes

Prompto scratched at his wrist, moving the band he always kept secured over his "birthmark". He was feeling antsy again. Strike that, he was always antsy now. But the anxiety and frustration would swell in waves. Like right now. 

He bit his lip and stopped his knee from bouncing. He had been unconsciously hitting his heel to the bus' floor, the old woman across from him having pinned him with a dirty look. 

'Ugly old bag.'

Prompto sucked in a harsh breath and looked away, pulling his scarf up to his mouth. He had been having those horrible thoughts a lot lately. Insomnia was always busy and full of people. He had grown up here, just as loud as everyone else. It had been only two days since his last cigarette. It made that loudness feel like a headache. 

'Stop it,' he mentally scolded himself, 'She's not ugly, she's just annoyed. You're being annoying, damn chocobo brain...'

Now insulting himself, his frustrations only grew and he thought he might start screaming. His jacket was too hot, the bodies around him were swaying with every turn of the road, and it pressed heat into his already smothered face. As soon as the next stop came, he was on his feet and shoving his way outside. 

Prompto was the only one to step out onto the cold sidewalk. The paved roads were borded by a thin field of snow, just shallow enough for weeds to stick out from the building's feet. Buildings that were worn down and older than his childhood home. Older and cheaper. 

He huffed, cold breath drawn out like white clouds, and reached for his bag. As he headed for the smallest apartment building at the end of the street, he dug through several of the pockets on his satchel, realizing that his little cherry red camera was missing. 

"Oh, oh no, come on, man!" Prompto shouted. He withdrew the strap from over his head and knelt over the icy sidewalk, tossing his belongings in a heap. Frustrated hands ran over pencils and loose schoolwork he didn't remember being assigned. No half cracked lense starred back at him, and he sat back on his heels. 

"Oh, fuck me..." he breathed. 

Groggily, a limp in his movements, he gathered his school things and tried not to cry. 

"You're being a baby," he told himself, "It was pretty much busted anyway."

Self-pity and frustration began to fester in his gut as he slouched the rest of the way to the apartment. Normally, he'd call Noctis and distract himself with video games, or train with Gladios and show off his gun skills (which now may or may not be getting a little rusty). Hell, he'd love to help Ignis in the kitchen, sit on the counter and eat the ingredients as he was yelled at. 

But that wasn't happening. He couldn't bare to call any of his friends. Not after a nasty fight they all had only a few days prior. He wasn't sure what the argument had even been sparked by. All he recalled was Noct inches from his face, and Ignis trying to wretch them apart while simultaneously shouting at Gladious. And then... he left awkwardly through the castle wings with a red face and now... no one to distract him from his shit day. 

"Ugh," he nearly fell limp at the thought of the fight. He considered calling Noct soon, maybe over the weekend, and trying to hash out what happened. It's not like it's their first fight. 

'It was the worst one.'

He gulped and unlocked his door, gritting his teeth as it creaked and pushed back against his fingers. The knob wasn't budging, so he pressed more weight on it, but it just gave way like a rusty pipe and he foud himself sprawled on the ground and his ass in the air. 

Like a string snapping, he shoved himself off the cold ground and kicked his door several times, yelling at the wood for being a piece of shit, and wishing desperately he could just call upon Ifrit to destroy the world. In that moment, he might have, but then someone coughed, and Prompto realized he wasn't alone. He looked over, breath hazy and cheeks red, as he looked the stranger up and down. No. Not a stranger. This was his neighbor. Someone he had seen around and about as he passed up the stairs to get his mail.

She was a beautiful woman. Like most residents of Insomnia, she had dark pretty hair that she liked pinned up into a bun, and pale skin (if possible, maybe a little paler than Noctis). Prompto figured she must be some kind of professional, because the bun matched her pencil skirt, black heels and glossy bag she kept over her shoulder. She never seemed like the person to live in this crummy hole. Never a hair out of place. 

"Uh, I-I'm sorry," he stuttered, playing with the lopsided rim of his beanie. "I just, I really lost my temper, and I don't usually do that- I- Um..."

She had lost that often cold expression she wore. A business-woman look that told you she meant no horse play in the workplace. When it left, a young woman with slightly tired eyes nodded at him.

"It's okay. I understand. We all need to let out a little steam sometimes, right?"

Prompto blushed. He blushed. Like a school kid, all because her little smile sent a rush of heat to his groin. He mentally slapped himself for acting like a horn-dog. Maybe instead of a cig, he'd rather just get inside his room, masturbate, and go to sleep for a week. That always helped. 

He looked down at the knob he held in his hand. His fingers were numb and white.

"Oh, you poor baby." The woman cooed like a nanny and stepped forward. Before Prompto could ask what she was doing, she was cupping his hand and taking the near frozen knob off his hands. "You broke it? Oh, I'll have to tell Domus to get off his lazy ass and start fixing things for once."

"D-Domus? You know the land lord?"

"Of course. He's an old friend, honey. He's lazy though, but I promise to get him over here by tonight to fix this."

"I... Uh, thanks?" 

Prompto didn't want to be rude, but he didn't like her fingers running over his wrists, like she was trying to warm him. But he refrained from pulling away. It's not like she was doing anything other than worrying. She must have been a mother. 

"Would you like to come to my room, honey? It's warm and I'll call Domus to have him hurry over."

"R-really? You'd do that? I, uh, thanks. That's the first good piece of news I've had in a while." he smiled weakly, trying to be polite, but the woman didn't seem to mind. 

"Oh, dear, trust me. It's no bother. Domus should no better than to leave things to the point of falling apart. We're in need of new doors anyway. Now, come along, I'll show you to my room." 

Her heels clicked as she walked in long strides. 

'Like a professional lawyer doing important lawyer things,' Prompto thought. 'What, who is this?'

"Uh, I'm sorry, but I don't know your name?"She glanced over her shoulder and Prompto stumbled over himself to back up. "I just mean- I'm Prompto!"  
He stuck out his hand, not sure what he was making such an idiot of himself. Normally, he'd do that through bad jokes and even worse innuendos. But then she laughed, and waved off his worries with a wave of her hand. 

"You're so adorable." She said. 

Prompto felt his face burn and he coughed into his fist to avoid eye contact. The woman laughed again at this, and then extended a hand. 

"My name is Serica. Serica Oscula."

He took it, shivering at how warm and soft her hand was. 

"I'm P-Prompto... Prompto Argentum. Iit's nice to meet you, Serica."

Serica's home wasn't a home. Not that he was aware of it. She seemed to realize his thought process only moments after they walked into a seemingly empty apartment with several boxes and an open kitchen with office supplies littering the counter. 

"Oh, sorry about the mess," she apologized. "I don't actually live here. It's just a storage for some important things and a place to sit down when my husband gets too... loud. It might seem silly, but I like to be by myself sometimes."

"Oh, no! It's not silly at all, I totally get it," Prompto assured. 

And then he retraced his thoughts. Husband? Was it weird to be alone with some stranger's wife? He felt a little guilty as she led him to the kitchen counter to sit, convincing himself she was just trying to be friendly. 

"Yes, the city can be a bit much sometimes, too." Prompto sat there like a child, feeling weirdly exposed as she began humming with her back to him. He opened his mouth to make small talk, couldn't think of anything, and grew quiet as she came back with some water and a small, plastic bin of cookies. His mouth began to water. 

"Oh, wow! Thanks, did you make these?"

He took one, trying to take as slow a bite as he could as she talked. He was starving, damn it, but Serica gave him a level stare and a slight smile. 

"I made them last night. I love baking. It's one of the things I like to do when I'm alone."

Prompto took a sip of the water, havign no heart to tell her that they were a little dry, and nearly choked when a red-polished finger brushed agaisnt his own. He swallowed and pulled back, watching Serica eat a cookie herself, as if she didn't just brush a hand over his own. 

'Mistake, idiot,' Prompto chided. 'The counter is small, okay?'

"Uh, so... Dormus, uh, when will he be back?" 

"Hm? Oh, of course. Silly me, I'd forget me head if it wasn't on my shoulders. One moment. Oh, here, let me get you more water."

"Oh no, it's-" He reached out awkwardly, as she took it, retracting his hand and his words. She took it to the sink to refill. "Here. Let me add some lemon to it. That always helps keep away a cold when it's cold out."

"What? Oh, no, it's okay, really," Prompto felt like this could be a good time to just walk outside and sit in the snow till he froze. God, this felt weird. But Serica took two lemons from the fridge and he looked down at his lap as a knife took to a cutting board. His phone sat heavy in his pocket. 

'No amount of shame can prolong this torture... I should just call and apologize...'

His figner brushed the top of his phone. 

"Here you are."

Something flared in his chest. He wasn't sure what it was, but Prompto looked up at Serica's words and retracted his fingers. "Uh, oh thank-"

"It's rude to use your phone when with a guest."

"Huh-what?" Prompto's heart gave out, embarrassment and confusion flushing his face. "I didn't, I wasn't taking it out, I'm sorry."

She smiled and pushed his drink towards him. A leaf of basil was placed over the ice. "I'll go call Dormus," Serica said kindly. She took her own drink with her and left, heading into only other room. The door clicked shut. 

Prompto's shoulders sagged and he took a drink of his water, trying to calm his nerves. The woman was seriously weird, but he'd rather sit in here eating cookies than freezing outside. 

'Just withdrawals, he thought. 'I'll buy a pack as soon as I get back inside. I have to have some kind of cash lying around.... maybe... hopefully...'

Serica took longer than he'd like. He heard her voice through the wall and it sounded like she was getting upset. He had only met Dormus a few times. He lived on the other side of town, and rarely ever came by. He was probably reluctant to deal with the issue of Prompto Argentum's Doorknob. And then, he saw a himself fall forward and reared back. His head came up and he realized he had almost toppled off the stool. He set the glass down and stood up to stretch his legs. They suddenly ached. 

'Oh, wow. Okay, I think... I'm gonna... be sick...'

Prompto's thoughts slowed as he rushed over the counter to the sink, unable to stop himself from retching at the suddenly sour rush to his gut. It welled in his throat and he heaved. Nothing came up, but a ball of cookie felt lodged in his chest, and he slumped forward. 

He didn't feel his hands slip from the wet edge of the sink, or his head hit the tiled fllor.


End file.
